Circles
by sakuhoney
Summary: Lavellan was the 'Champion of Redcliffe', and the one who found Andraste's sacred ashes. She became the 'Hero of Ferelden', sacrificing her life slaying the archdemon, ending the fifth blight. Twelve years later, she falls out of the breach in Haven when the Conclave explodes. Now, on top of all her other fancy titles, they're calling her the Herald of Andraste.
1. Introduction

hello! this is an old work i realized i never posted on FFnet so here you go! 

**official summary;**

* * *

Lana Lavellan was the Champion of Redcliffe, and the one who found Andraste's sacred ashes. It was her who became the Hero of Ferelden after she sacrificed her life to slay the archdemon and end the fifth blight.

It was also her who, twelve years later, fell out of the breach in Haven when the Conclave exploded. Now, on top of all her other fancy titles, they're calling her the Herald of Andraste. Her! A Dalish elf. A **mage.**

But Cullen Rutherford, Commander to the Inquisition's forces and adviser to the Inquisitor, knows she is much more then just her fancy titles.

In fact, the Commander and the Inquisitor once knew each other quite well.

(Oh, and Leliana is ecstatic to have her old friend back, even though she has a hard time of showing it.)

(Because it hurts me to think that Cullen never got over the Mage Warden, so I had to write a universe where they can be happily together.)


	2. Dalish Apostate

**Dalish Apostate  
**...

* * *

"Wow.."

Lana Lavellan glanced up from the shem book she'd been trying to read. It'd taken her a few months to learn and memorize the strange curly human letters, but ever since she's been kidnapped from the forest and held captive, there wasn't much else to do in this damned tower.

She hadn't realized there was a Templar perched at the door of the library watching her as she studied. She then she shook her head. Of _course_ there was a Templar watching her, the powerful shem in the armor were _always_ watching the mages. And they certainly seemed unable to get enough of the new Dalish elf apostate whom they'd captured a handful of months ago.

Let's just say, Lana learned a bunch of new shemlen words the day that they kidnapped her. They called her so many things she'd never heard of. But once they reached the tower, the Templars made sure to educate her on each possible word that described dangerous she is, and how dangerous she _could be_.

The Templars hardly ever spoke to the mages.

This suited the Lavellan just fine, because the last thing the elven mage wanted to do was make conversation with these men who tore her away from her clan.

So, the elf was a bit concerned when she heard the blond Templar man speak. It was the first time a Templar had ever bothered to acknowledge her, and it worried her. Lana looked up from the book and her red eyes met the honeyed hues of a shem man.

She frowned, and silently raised a questioning eyebrow at the human.

Cullen had tried to watch their newest apprentice to the Circle quietly. Really, he did. It made it easier to do his job when he didn't draw attention to himself from his charges, but he couldn't help the sound of astonishment that slipped from his lips as he was watching the elven woman study in the library.

Sure, there were other elves in the Circle. But the elven mages in Kinloch Hold were nothing like this new apprentice mage. It was clear she grew up Dalish, something Cullen had never encountered before. The Dalish usually avoided humans, they especially avoided the Templars, and the Templars did the same returned the favor unless there is a clan with more than one mage, then the Templars cannot afford to over look them. Cullen often wondered if that had been the case with Lana. The Templars sometimes whispered about the cold Dalish apprentice in the barracks, but no one knew much of the woman.

Admittedly, Cullen's eyes were drawn to the pinkish tattoos that adorned the woman's face. Cullen couldn't help it when he muttered out his astonishment, and when the apprentice lifted her head to acknowledge him, he began to trip over his words due to his embarrassment.

"O-oh, excuse me. I didnt mean to interrupt your studies, but..."

The newest apprentice was looking at him with clear confusion in her dark red eyes, and Cullen inwardly cursed himself. What in Thedas was he saying? He didn't need to apologize to her for doing his job!

And yet, for some reasons, the words kept fumbling out in their own accord.

"Its just, what I mean to say, that is.."

The Templar rubbed the back of his neck, and Lana could feel herself starting to worry. She shut the shem book of history she'd been examining in hopes of finding out more about what the humans worshiped. She narrowed her eyes cautiously at the human man. Whatever it was he was going to say to her, she needed him to spit it out, now.

"The, uh, markings on your face." Cullen continued, rather dumbly.

He wanted to tell her he found them strangely becoming. He knew close to none of the Dalish, but the tattoo seemed shaped as a tree spread across her forehead, roots dipping along her cheeks.

It made her look strong, which he knew to be true considering he's heard the First Enchanter arguing with Knight-Commander Greagoir about letting the apprentice take on her Harrowing. There had been a lot of back and forth between the two, as the Dalish had only been an apprentice for not even a year, while there were some Mages who've been in the Circle their whole lives and were not ready for their Harrowing.

Cullen agreed with Irving. There was no need to wait any longer, he knew she could pass her Harrowing as well. And he'd never even spoken to the woman, only observed her from afar. Admittedly, the young Templar observed the Dalish charge more than was necessary.

She was incredibly confident in her abilities. She was a strong woman, but she was so very small. Cullen often imagined how his large, pale hands would look against the curve of her tan hips. He bet he could lift her slim body with ease, tuck her against his armor and grope her plush backside that he often concentrated on when on duty. She was too damned pretty in her apprentice robes, and the way the candlelight hit her face seemed to make her tan skin glow.

Cullen realized she was now looking at him with annoyance, and he quickly continued, face red. "I, I, I just.. I've never seen anything quite like them before." His voice raised a pitch higher in his embarrassment. "I think they are.. well.. nice."

He was rubbing the back of his neck again, fidgeting in his armor.

Lana remained frozen, eyes wide as she stared at the man. This was the first time a Templar had tried to engage in a conversation with her, and the fact that he had singled out her vallaslin spiked the elven apprentices fear.

Would the shem tell her to remove her vallaslin? Would he care if she told him they were permanent? Would they put acid upon the vallaslin, and scar it off? Why would the Templar's care now, after all this time?

She clutched her book to her chest and slowly stood from her seat, eying the Templar wearily.

Cullen's eyebrows rose as he watched the elf rise from her seat, and quickly scurry out of the library without saying a word to him. He cursed once he was alone, smacking his forehead and letting out a miserable groan.

"Smooth, Cullen. First time you've spoken to her, and you spooked her."

Rejected, he scratched the back of his head and pushed in the chair she had left in her hurry.

* * *

"Oh.. Um, h-hello.. I'm glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly."

"..." Lana frowned quietly at the blond Templar shem who greeted her with the usual uncertain stutter in his voice. He's greeted her kindly every morning since she'd ran away from him that night in the library.

At first, the mans greetings caused Lana unease, not used to being acknowledged by the Templars. Cullen was the only one who ever spoke to her when it was not necessary. In fact, Lana noted how the Templar would go out of his way to greet her, always seeming pleased with himself when she would give him a soundless nod in acknowledgment.

The human man was confusing.

"...Ser Cullen. Hello. You seem nervous." Lana greeted him today, instead of giving him her usual silent acknowledgment. Her mood felt lighter today than usual, likely because she'd passed her Harrowing the day before. She wondered if that was why the man seemed so nervous, was he expecting her to be changed? To pop out as an abomination, like all the other silly Shem believed could happen at any moment?

Cullen recoiled back, shocked that the pretty apprentice who always snubbed him was actually speaking to him for once. He knew his efforts couldn't be ignored forever. "What?" He then began chuckling nervously, his lips pressed into a shy smile. "I-I'm fine. I, uh.. I'm just glad you're alright, you know?"

Lana let out a hum of realization, the reason for his anxious behavior becoming clear to her. "Ah. You were the Templar chosen to strike the final blow for my Harrowing?"

She wouldn't of believed the man could get any more nervous if she were not watching him with her own eyes. Cullen shuffled his feet awkwardly, gaze suddenly drooping to the floor "I.. well.." He swallowed, and finished solemnly, "Yes."

"Good on you then. I know Knight-Commander Greagoir assigns only the most capable Templar's for the job. You must be proud."

Her tone was flat, but not necessarily condescending. She was right, the Knight-Commander chose him because he'd been the most capable. For some reason, Lana's words gave Cullen an unsettled feeling in his stomach. He knew the Dalish elf had not even been in the circle for a full year, and she was still unaccustomed to how The Order handled their mages.

Cullen quietly pondered to himself if she thought he took joy in watching apprentice mages fail their Harrowing's.

"I would of felt terrible about it," He admitted before he could stop himself. Even Lana looked surprised, which was shocking considering the woman's composure was always as cool as ice. He had to look away from her curious gaze, unable to meet her piercing green eyes as he continued. "But.. But I serve the Chantry, and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded."

The Lavellan could not understand why this Templar man sounded so.. _broken_.

Surely, he knew what it meant when he dedicated his life to the Order? The thought that he was given the _choice_ to be here made her unreasonably sick. How dare he sound _so sad, so disheartened,_ when it was _she_ who was snatched from her Lavellan Clan a year ago when she was hunting in the forest, attacked and knocked unconscious by the Templars? By the Order that _he_ so willingly served?

She didn't want to hear how he would of felt terrible for striking her down after they're the ones who threw her into the Fade as part of their silly little shem Harrowing. Of course, Lana passed the ritual with flashing colors, Cullen spreading the word on how it'd been the fastest Harrowing he'd ever seen. But he didn't deserve to feel guilty for killing Mages who were not as strong as she was, the mages who failed their Harrowing's and turned into abominations. Suddenly, all she felt was anger.

"It is easy for one to not think for himself." Lana hissed out. She should have stopped there, when she saw how badly her words had hurt the Templar. Cullen's lips pressed into a frown, trying to mask the pain her words gave him.

But Lana couldn't stop herself as she quickly slipped past him, making sure their shoulders did not accidentally knock as she hissed hatefully, "You let your lack of knowledge frighten you. You have no mind of your own, Ser. You are a weak man. And for that, I pity you."

She couldn't forgive the shemlen for taking her from her forest. She couldn't forgive how the Templar's threw all the mages into this tower, preaching that it was for their own good. No matter how kind the Ser Templar had been, no matter how kindly Cullen spoke to her.. Lana couldn't forgive the fact that he served The Order so willingly, so blindly.

She walked away.

He watched her back as she departed, watching as she did not look over her shoulder to spare him another glance.

She was collected into the Grey Warden's shortly after that.

Cullen was silent when she walked by him, Duncan at her side.

There was nothing else to say between the two.

* * *

"..This trick, again? I know what you are. It won't work. I _will_ stay strong."

Lana did not know what she was expecting when she walked up the stairs to the fourth floor of the Circle that once held her prisoner.

Surely nothing would surprise her at this point, after wading through the bodies of mage apprentices and Templar's she once studied and shared a roof with.

She'd been recruited as a Warden, to the dismay of Knight Commander Greagoir, and was granted permission to leave the shemlen prison they designed so cleverly as a "school".

The first thing she wanted to do was find a chance to sneak past the shem man who'd recruited her, Duncan. Unfortunately, the elder Warden was wise beyond his years, and it seemed as though he saw right through Lana. He kept a critical eye on her that was masked as a friendly smile, and made sure she didn't wander off far on her own. He explained that times have changed within the past year she was held prisoner in the Circle Tower (apparently, the shem Warden was able to sympathize with the Circle mages who were being held against their will. Lana found it refreshing that not all of the humans are controlled by their fear of magic) and Duncan had asked for Lana to stick close to him, in case any Darkspawn were to appear. The elven woman was grateful to be traveling with such a skilled warrior, shem or not.

Duncan was the first human who Lana found herself participating in an actual conversation with. He answered all of her seemingly obvious questions without laughing at her, and even asked some questions of his own about the Circle, which Lana couldn't bring herself to care for, and about her Dalish heritage, which she refused to share with an outsider.

She never did find a chance to runaway during their journey to Ostagard.

And then the battle happened.

And then the Wardens fell.

Death, _lots_ of death.

And suddenly running away to return to her Clan was no longer an option for Lana. Alistair had begged her not to leave him, told her pathetically how he can hardly choose what to wear in the morning, let alone where to start when it came to ending the Blight. They were the only Warden's left in Fereldan, and the big oaf definitely wouldn't be able to get anything done without her, despite the fact that he had been a Warden longer then she had.

Creators, he wasn't able to do _much_ without her. And then he tells her he's not just another human with a bad sense of humor, but he's a _Prince_. Of _**Ferelden**_.

Lana absolutely did not want to get into the shem politics, but it was becoming abundantly clear to her that Alistair needed to take the throne. It was his birthright, was it not? The Dalish had very strong faith in tradition, and if Alistair belonged on the throne, then she would help put him there, when the time came.

She left Kinloch Hold to start her journey as a Warden five months ago, and within that time, Lana managed to make alliances at every corner of Ferelden.

There was the bard, Leliana, who believed Lana was somehow special in the Maker's eye. Clearly, this was nonsense to the Dalish elf as she did not care for the human God, but after her time spent in the Circle, Lana had become familiar with the religion. Leliana claimed that her Maker wanted her to guide Lana on their special mission. The elf had simply exchanged a look with Alistair, before shrugging her shoulders. Who cares if Leliana was an insane Chantry Sister with the wildest notion that the Maker wanted her to protect Lana? She had a sharp shot, told the most entertaining stories, and had the most beautiful voice Lana had ever heard.

Then there was Sten, the Qunari she had saved from Lothering. He was reluctant at first, clearly holding no respect for the elf who called itself a Warden, but was clearly a woman. Lana knew nothing of the Qun, or why it was so hard for the man to understand a woman could be a Grey Warden. In fact, Lana had no idea the Qunari had even existed.

It was at this point that the Lavellan came to terms with the fact that she may have been living a sheltered life in the Forest and in the Circle. She was rapidly becoming aware of how her ignorance to the outside world, the world she was trying to protect. Why was she fighting to protect a world she knew nothing of? Lana strived to learn more about the humans, about the Qunari, and about her own ancestors, the Dalish.

She had a mabari pup who was much stronger than it appeared. She'd named him Dirty Mutt, which Alistair immediately refused and asked her to reconsider to Pinwheel, but Dirty Mutt was already responsive to only what his master called him.

Morrigan was another apostate mage who Lana surprisingly found herself getting along with. Of course, the Witch of the Wilds and the Prince of Fereldan argued all across Fereldan like a pair younger siblings, causing the Dalish mage to have migraines throughout their whole journey.

Zevran, the Antivan elf who knew nothing of his heritage. Lana was overjoyed when she'd greeted him in elven one night when they were both watching camp, and Zevran had admitted to being curious about why he could feel their language in his bones. Lana had happily agreed to teach him all the elven she knew, since Zevran had never before shown interest in his Dalish heritage, but the mood was horribly tarnished when Zevran explained how aroused the language made him.

Within the five months they were on their journey, Lana managed to recruited a Dalish clan first, which was a given. Unfortunately, the Keeper had no information on Clan Lavellan, which had disheartened Lana for a good few weeks during their travels. She shouldn't of been surprised, Dalish Clan's were often aloof of one another, and always to reluctant to share their knowledge. Lana tried to keep her mind focused on ending the Blight.

After they recruited the dalish, Lana had decided to heed Alistair's advice and head to Redcliffe in order to meet the Arl. It turned out, the castle had been overrun by a demon, who was currently possessing the Arl's son, Connor. Lana had promised Bann Teagan, another human nobility that Alistair knew, that she would ask the First Enchanter if they could use the Circle's lyrium in order to go to the Fade and save the young human boy.

She fought through blood mages, enchanted Templars, and regular Templars, and sloth demons, searching for the First Enchanter so she could convince Greagoir to cancel the Right of Annulment. It baffled her, really, how easily the shemlen were going to slaughter the mages.

Lana figured nothing else could possibly surprise her, until she saw a familiar templar knelt on the ground, surrounded by a pink barrier.

"Cullen?"

It'd been at least five months, but she could recognize him anywhere. "You're... alive." She didn't realize it was a burden that had been weighing on her until now. But seeing him, surrounded in that barrier with seemingly no wounds, relief washed over her like a wave she didn't know exist.

Unfortunately, his relief did not match her own.

"Silence, demon!" The Templar who once had the sweetest honeyed eyes that would watch over her quietly in the circle, was now snarling at her. Lana had to admit, she wasn't expecting that reaction from him, and she took a step backwards as if his words had psychically lashed out at her. Cullen continued, enraged. "I _will not_ entertain your wretched games. Begone!"

The elven mage pressed her lips into a frown as she watched the man she'd once been acquaintanced with kneel before her and whisper a prayer to his Maker, as if she were going to strike him down at any moment. She couldn't help but furrow her eyebrows in confusion.

"Cullen.. Don't you recognize me?"

Sure, Lana may given him the cold shoulder during her time in the Circle, brushing him off when he would try to make nice conversation, ignoring him as he would greet her good morning every day.. but to call her a demon? She wondered if he thought she'd came back to help slaughter the mages and templars alike.

"Only too well," He sounded broken, like he had back when she'd last spoken with him at the Circle. Cullen burried his face into his palms, "...how far, they must have delved into my thoughts... to bring her face into this.. to tarnish the last memory I had of her..."

Wynne approached the pink barrier that Lana had very specifically stayed away from. The older mage woman peered closer into his cage, examining it closely. "The boy is exhausted. This cage, I've never seen anything like it.." She pressed her lips together in a frown, "Rest easy child.. help is here."

"Cullen, can you stand?" Lana managed to ask after the shock wore off. They were wasting time, but she wasn't entirely sure if he was well. "I'm here to help."

He shook his head violently, resolve cracking just the slightest bit. " _Enough visions._ If anything in you is human, kill me now and stop these games!"

It definitely wasn't the best time to get offended that he'd call her human. She was elven, for crying out loud.

"He's delirious. He's been tortured.. and has probably been denied food and water. I can tell." Leliana reached into her pouch to pull of the last flask of water, approaching the Templar as she did so. "Here, I have a skin of-"

Cullen's voice bellowed off of the walls when he shouted as Leliana had approached him. "Don't touch me! Stay away!"

"Leliana." Lana's tone was deprived of emotion, coming out very sternly. The former bard quickly took a few steps back so she could be behind the elven Warden, listening to her unspoken command to back away from the crazed Templar.

"Sifting through my thoughts.. tempting me with the one thing I always wanted, but could never have.. using my shame against me.. my ill advised infatuation with her.. a **_mage_** of all things."

Lana felt her heart sink to her stomach, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

What was this man going on about?

...No, it was clear what he meant. Who he was talking about. _Her._

Lana would have never known that the shy Templar who always seemed to go out of his way to greet her no matter how badly she snubbed him, was _infatuated_ with her. A human!

The idea had never crossed her mind. He was a _human_ , he was a _Templar_ , and he was always **_watching_** her. She'd assumed he was anxiously waiting for the Dalish elf apostate to burst into an abomination. Truly, she figured the Templar was frightened of her. Never would she have guessed it to be infatuation.

"Cullen." It was probably the first time she'd ever spoken to him so gently. Even now, Lana's tone was not warm, instead more commanding. "The others. I need you to tell me where they are."

"Others..? What.. others?" He asked drowsily.

"The mages, Cullen. Irving."

"They are in the Harrowing tower. The sounds coming from there.. Oh, Maker.." Cullen shook his head, looking more defeated than Lana had ever seen a man before. "And to think I once thought we were too hard on you."

What did the humans expect, locking mages together in a prison they thought was so cleverly designed as a school? The threat of Tranquility looming through the halls, an eerie horror that haunted Lana many nights when the Templar's first kidnapped her from her clan. The humans had a form of magic she'd never seen before, the power to cut ones connection from the Fade, and it _terrified_ her.

However, Lana would not scold a broken man. It was clear the templar was not in the right state of mind, like Leliana had confirmed. Lana ignored his insult as calmly as she could, the only tell of her annoyance being the slight press of her lips before she curtly turned away from him, and headed over to the room where she'd once done her Harrowing.

She was done speaking to the Templar. It was clear he would never understand.

"You can't save them. You _must_ kill Uldred. Kill them _all_ for what they have done." Cullen's desperate plea stopped her dead in her tracks.

Lana slowly turned her head, looking over her shoulder to look at the templar on his knee's. She wasn't sure whether or not he was being serious.

"You wish for me to kill them? All of them?" Hadn't he once lived amongst these people too? Watched them, like he had watched her, every day?

"We will never be safe unless every last one of those mages are killed! Only mages have that much power at their fingertips, only mages are susceptible to the whisperings of a demon-"

"Mind your tongue, Templar." Lana stalked back over to where he sat, green eyes narrowed dangerously. "This _mage_ just saved your life."

"Do not think I am not grateful! But why should I live when my friends lie dead, bodies and spirits broken? Did a mage not start this? Is it not one of you who are to blame? To ensure this nightmare is over.. to guarantee no blood mages or abominations remain, you _must_ kill everyone up there."

"Do you forget the reason these mages are here in the first place?" Lana approached his cage, a heated look in his eyes. She could feel her hatred for the Circle, for Kinloch Hold, for the Templar's and what they took from her. Her hand clenched into a fist.

" _Your_ Order! _Your_ Chantry! _You_ , _humans_! You take, and you take! And you are surprised when those who you've enslaved fight back?!"

Wynne grasped onto the Warden's shoulder, gently pulling her away from the cage. "This is a discussion for another time! The boy is not well!" She scolded.

Lana didn't realize during her angry rant how the shem man slowly crawled away from her as she approached, whimpering pathetically. The man looked as though he were about to begin praying to his Maker again for protection from the demon in front of him.

She slowly unclenched her hand from it's fist. She felt sorry for the shemlen, one of the few survivors of the Circle when there had once been so many. He'd clearly been through some exhausting ordeal, and now was not the time.

Still, Lana could not help but add gently, "..But, death to them all? Is it not your duty to protect the innocent? The Templar's are not the only victims here."

Cullen clenched his eyes shut, her words ringing through his heart. Of _course_ it was his duty to protect the innocent. It was what he's sworn to since he was thirteen years old. But _she did not understand,_ he's _seen_ what the maleficarum can do, _watched_ _helplessly_ as they took his fellow Templars one by one.

Cullen could no longer find these mages to be innocent. He spoke mournfully, "I have seen what they are capable of. They have been surrounded by the blood mages, who's wicked fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts."

Lana felt Alistair approach her, speaking to her gently. "His hatred of mage's is so intense.. the memory of his friends deaths are still fresh in his mind."

The broken templar shifted his weary gaze to Alistair, who bent slightly so he could whisper something into Lana's ear. Cullen closed his eyes once again, slowly accepting that the Dalish mage he had once fancied in the Circle was not killed in battle like he was led to believe. It still hurt too greatly for Cullen to revisit those memories, the guilt for having affection for a mage, for being so careless as to dote on one of his charges.

Still, he couldn't help it as the words slipped out of his mouth, his concern for a mage, his greatest weakness, showing once again. "But you.. how did you survive? We were told that all of the Warden's had been killed during the battle at Ostagard. I believed you to be.." He couldn't finish, his concern soon turning to disgust.

He thought of the desire demon who'd possessed her body, using her voice and her face to taint him. Cullen had to look away once again, unable to face her.

"Both Alistair and I are the only Warden's who survived," Lana answered curtly. Her eyes softened as she looked at the Templar who was too disgusted to even look her in the eye. The only Templar who had shown her kindness in the Circle. The poor shemlen who followed his Order so blindly, and this is where it lead him.

The poor fool.

She knelt down so she could be at eye-level with the Templar who still sat on his knees. He snarled and crawled to the other side of his barrier, but Lana remained motionless. He was looking looking at the floor, determined not to meet her gaze.

The poor, poor fool.

His kind soul has been tainted.

"Blood magic is unforgivable. I will kill every single blood mage that I encounter." She vowed to him in a strong voice, filled with authority. She continued, just as strongly. "And I will save every single innocent person that I am able." Cullen let out a snort of disgust at this. The fool! He opened his mouth to lash out, to try and change her mind, but Lana continued before he could voice his complaints. "And.. I know that there was a time when you would have done the same.

Viciously, Cullen called out her, "I was once a fool! And you are one just as well!"

But Lana simply rose into standing position, motioned for her party to follow her, and headed into the Harrowing Chamber. Cullen was left alone to bury his face into his hands.

She was a fool. She was such a **_fool_** to let the Mage's survive. The maleficarum whom tainted his fellow Templar's with their wicked magic. He let out another whimper, "They never listen. Not until it's too late."

...

* * *

 **authors note;; the Hero of Ferelden found Andraste's sacred ashes, for Pete's sake. If anyone deserved to be Andraste's Herald, its her.**


	3. Alone Again

Alone Again

...

* * *

"Alistair, why must you set your bedspread so close to mine?"

Lana couldn't help but ask her fellow Warden, who had just began to unravel his blankets and spread them sloppily on the grass, just a few feet away from herself. Her question came out sharp, but she didn't really mind, she had just been curious about the sudden change. Alistair usually camped close by the fire, where he could easily grab a second or third bowl of soup.

They finished their business at the broken Circle tower, and had successfully healed the Arl of Redcliffe's son, Connor. Unfortunately, Lana had yet to retrieve the sacred ashes that were supposedly rumored to be able to heal anything. The elven Warden could only pray the shem were right about these ashes of their supposed 'Holy Bride'. She wasn't sure how they would be able to heal the Arl without them.

The group had stopped for camp just as the sun was beginning to set. Normally, the Warden didn't call for breaks while there was still light out to guide their path, but she figured they could take an early rest for the night, considering they'll be hiking through the mountains to reach a small village called Haven first thing in the morning.

Morrigan had her camp set up quite a while away, as usual, tending to her own fire and drying her freshly cleaned robes. Leliana and Zevran seemed to be enthralled in a conversation of their own, the Antivan assassin asking the Bard questions that would have made any other Sister blush, but Leliana answered with a mischievous grin of her own.

The dirty mutt laid in the grass next to her bedroll, enjoying his break from their endless day of traveling. Lana had set up her camp a few feet away from her companions, not nearly as far as Morrigan had gone, but far enough to where she couldn't be dragged into conversation.

Alistair blinked innocently at her question, hands freezing in spreading his bed sheet a few feet away from hers as he gave Lana a nervous smile.

"I... I don't know what you mean?"

Lana frowned at his obvious lie. Her fellow Warden has been acting strangely towards her since they'd rescued (what was left to rescue of) the Circle. Admittedly, the two were not the closest of companions, for Lana never went out of her way to converse with any of the strange followers she'd gained during her journey to end the Blight. Alistair seemed comfortable with her distance, she was sure he'd been around enough warriors to respect the fact that one wanted their privacy. The occasions in which she did engage in conversation with him, it usually involved him giving her some kind of bad news, laced with his witful sarcasm and humor.

On the somewhat rare occasion where their conversation would slip into something in a more friendly, maybe a tad personal tone, Lana was usually left feeling confused, but oddly amused by the strange human man.

However, recently, the bastard prince had been going out of his way to try and strike a conversation with the mage warden, who of course, usually gave him a short and direct response in return. At first she didn't realize how strange he had been acting, but when he asked her earlier that morning if she was enjoying the weather, Lana began to feel suspicious as to whether or not something was bothering her fellow warden.

Lana raised a critical eye to Alistair, who had finished spreading his camping bag next to hers anyway and was now sitting on top his blankets, unbuckling the many straps of his armor. She placed down her staff, which she had been cleaning a few moments ago. He may have been a good five to seven feet away from her, but it was still strange that he didn't take post at his usual spot by the camp fire.

"You've been acting strange, ser." She told him bluntly, tired of his feign innocence.

Alistair let out another nervous laugh, as though he had been caught in the act. "Have I? I, err, suppose I just wanted to see if you are all right."

That had not been what the elf was expecting. In fact, she was not sure what it was she was expecting. She didn't know why she always assume the worst when it came to the humans. Lana spoke slowly, her voice filled with caution, laced with curiosity.

"I am fine, of course. What are you talking about?"

"Yes, yes. Of course you are fine, you're always fine, Maker forbid I forget that." Alistair gave her a cheeky grin, which cause Lana to blush slightly, looking away in embarrassment. Alistair often made it a point to comment on how 'frighteningly brave' his sister Warden could be, and it often left Lana feeling uncomfortable. She didn't mean to come off as someone so cold and direct, and often got embarrassed when someone pointed it out.

"But," the prince of Ferelden continued before she could comment. "I just wanted to make sure." He pressed on, stretching the last two words defensively. "You've been quiet these past few days, and I mean more quiet than usual. You didn't even scold Pinwheel when he started eating the darkspawn guts off your armor!" Alistair laughed at the thought of the elven woman scolding the mabari dog when it had licked her arm affectionately. Lana had never encountered mabari before, and she hardly seemed impressed by Pinwheel when he explained how intelligent the breed was. She did, however, tolerate the warrior dog's presence, even if the dirty mutt loved her to pieces.

Alistair continued, sounding a bit more grim. "I thought it was because.. You know.. because, well, the Circle.. it was your home.. right?"

Lana could tell he was struggling with trying not to upset her, so she quickly put him out of his misery. "No, the shemlen prison for the mages was not my home. I was snatched from my clan three years ago and the Templar's told me I would not be returning." She placed her hands behind her, palms digging into the grass as she leaned back and looked up at the sky, which was now slowly turning pink from the setting sun.

"When Duncan came to Kinloch Hold, he tried to recruit me." She explained to Alistair for the first time. She never told him the details of her recruitment. "The Knight-Commander would hear nothing of it. I was a fully grown apostate elf who wasn't 'properly trained' like the other mages. He said it was preposterous. Unfortunately, that meant Duncan had to invoke the Right of Conscription. I was forced in to become a Grey Warden, but.. at least I was free."

It was probably the most she had ever spoken about herself to Alistair since they'd introduced themselves at Ostagar. Even now, Lana didn't share with him how risking her life to end the blight wasn't nearly as bad as it was being prisoner at the Circle of Magi.

"You had to have made friends with some of the other apprentices while you were there. You had no one you cared about?" Alistair pressed on, curious. Lana turned her head over to him, and lifted an eyebrow.

"Not in particular. No." There may have been a few elven apprentices who were absolutely blown away by the fact that Dalish elves were real, and for a while they would not stop badgering her with questions. But that all too soon quickly came to an end when the Templar's heard the whispers of the free apostate dalish elves. The templar's did not want their mages getting any ideas.

Lana saw no merit in opening up and sharing these things with the human warden before her.

"Well," He said gruffly to himself, sounding amused, laced with an undertone of.. Lana did not know what. "There certainly seemed to be people who were fond of you."

Lana felt her cheeks heat, understanding instantly who he meant. "N-no. You don't know what you're talking about." She still found it hard to believe that the honey eyed templar, Cullen, could have been infatuated with her. In fact, the elven warden was almost certain that his infatuation had something to do with the desire demon.

Alistair had finished stripping off his armor and was now in his sweaty white tunic and trousers. He had a bowl of warm stew Wynne had heated up half an hour ago and began to stuff his face. He wasn't the smartest lad, but he could tell if he tried teasing her on this, she just might freeze his feet to the ground.

The prince shoveled his stew into his mouth with the manners of a boy who was raised by dogs, too distracted by his dinner that he could only spare a few glances out the corner off his eye at the elven woman. She was staring at the sky, her freshly cleaned staff set against a large rock.

She hardly paid any attention to him, to any of them, really. She wasn't nearly as cold as she seemed, Lana was distant, but whenever they tried to converse with her, she always responded level headedly, and after she had the time to warm up to their companions, Lana even laughed and added in a few bantering comments of her own. She was a confident and strong woman, but she was aloof and mysterious as well, and Alistair couldn't help but wonder how she felt about the strange group of followers she's gained.

"I'm wondering something.. I'd like to know your thoughts on our... traveling companions." He placed his bowl in his lap and looked over to the Warden who was now laying on her bedsheets, and was looking at the sky. They were at a far enough distance to where they couldn't be heard. "Do you mind if I ask?"

This caught the elven woman's attention, and she turned on her side so she could face Alistair, her full attention now on him.

"This is.. Strange. I never took you as one to gossip," She quirked the side of her lips at him in a smirk.

"Oh, I have this nefarious plan to go to each of your followers and tell them all of the nasty things you've said about them. That way, they'll mutiny and I shall become the group leader!" He threw his head back in an over dramatic attempt in evil laughter.

The human was amusing, to say the least. Lana lifted an eyebrow to him, "If you want to lead, I'll gladly step down. You were a Grey Warden first."

"What? Lead? Me? No, no, no." He instantly began to deny in a panic. "Bad things happen when I lead. We get lost. People die. Next thing I know I'm stranded somewhere without any pants."

Lana found herself actually laughing because of the human. "Hahaha! Noted."

"Seriously though," He steered them back to his topic at hand. "I'm only curious. I've had enough time to form my own opinions, and I just wanted to see if yours are any different."

She did not find his request unreasonable. They were the Grey Warden's, and it seems they have gathered quite the following during their adventures so far.

Still, Lana could not help but feel uneasy, so she skeptically agreed, "Alright. But you'll have to tell me your opinions as well.

Alistair was laughing again, because he laughed so easily. "Ha! Just you try and stop me." And then he said, a little eagerly, "Alright, where should I start? Oh, how about Oghren? You must have an opinion on the smell at least."

Alistair certainly had had enough time to form his own opinion of each of their comrades, Lana realized. He questioned her about them each, and she expressed how their companions have done more than show how useful they can be, despite each of their flaws; (Oghren's projectile vomiting, Zevran trying to assassinate them, Leliana being a crazy Sister, and Morrigan.. Alistair could not stop running his mouth about Morrigan.)

Lana explained why she held respect for each of her comrades when Alistair listed them off, and she was able to persuade him to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Once he was done questioning her, there had been a moment of silence between the two, before Alistair finally spoke. "And what of.. Your feelings for me?"

Lana sat up from her laying position, and looked over to Alistair, shocked.

He continued, "I know.. this must be strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but I've come to care for you... a great deal." Alistair paused, glancing around the camp warily. Leliana and Zevran's backs were turned to the wardens, the two rogues being on watch.

No one was paying attention to them, and Alistair scooted closer to Lana so he could lower his voice. The elven mage felt her whole body tense, wondering where the human was going with this.

"I think maybe it's because we've been through so much together. I don't know. Or maybe I'm just fooling myself."

"Alistair?" Lana urged him, tired of him dancing around whatever it was he wanted to say. He was beginning to worry her.

At the sound if his name, he inched even closer to her, sitting a few inches away from the Warden as he reached forward to gently place his hand on top of hers.

Alistair's heart was beating like crazy as he realized he was putting his heart on the line. "Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you could ever feel the same way about me?"

The feeling of his large warm hand on top of her small, cool one had been a shock to Lana, but it had not necessarily been an unwelcome one. She looked down at their hands in awe, because honestly the thought of Alistair that way.. it hadn't crossed her mind.

It didn't help that the only thing that'd been on her mind during their journey was killing as many darkspawn as possible, and ending the fifth blight.

"You think.. I can care for a human man?" She couldn't help as the question slipped her lips.

"I don't know. I.. hope so." Alistair admitted, a shy smile tugging his lips.

The thought was so new to her. Clan Lavellan raised her to believe that the quickling humans were dirty savages, and it was their fault the elves no longer lived as long of lives as they had once had. She had thought the humans were brutes who enslaved the city elves, and seeked to destroy all of the beauty of her evlen heritage.

Now that she's been around Ferelden, her initial thoughts were bound to change. The humans were not the only ones at fault, she disliked the City Elves who chose to live in the alienage, to be abused by the shem.

It still felt strange to her, thinking of herself loving a human. However, the idea didn't revolt her nearly as much as it once had.

"I don't know. It's too soon to say." She admitted honestly.

Alistair leaned towards her, his eyes softening as his hand slowly reached to cup her cheek gently. "I hope.. its not too soon for this."

Her heart stuttered as he pressed his lips gently against hers, tilting his head to the side. She was frozen, eyes wide open as Alistair kissed her unexpectedly, before slowly drifting her eyes shut.

It wasn't.. it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, being kissed by a shem.

He pulled away, eyes crinkling into a handsome smile as he looked down to her, eyes dancing against the sunset. Her voice felt stuck in her throat as she gently raised her fingers to press gingerly at her lips.

"Well, is it... too soon for this?" He asked her, sounding so preciously shy.

Lana muttered dazedly, "Yes. Definitely too soon for that." He had caught her completely off guard, she didn't even REALIZE he saw her as anything other than the leading Warden of their group.

Alistair looked crestfallen at her answer, and Lana quickly hurried to correct herself. "It wasn't- it wasn't bad. I.. I liked it. I just.. need time." She offered lamely.

He looked a little more relaxed by her response, but he could not shake the doubt on his face. "I'm sorry if I was too.. forward. Makers breath, you're just so.. beautiful.." He let go of her hand, face beating red. He quickly stood from the ground, brushing dirt and grass from his trousers. "Well, I.. I said what I've wanted to say. I think I'll go take watch now, maybe swallow my foot.. before I do anything else to make myself look pathetic."

He scrambled away, face blushing, and relieved Zevran from his watch. Lana frowned as she leaned back against her bedspread, looking up to the now darkened sky.

Could she.. have feelings for a human man?

* * *

"Don't you feel that? This place.. is practically infused with magic." Wynne said gently as they entered the old halls.

They were at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and had just snuck past the High Dragon who the Disciples of Andraste believed was their most Holy, reincarnated. It was ridiculous, and Lana was growing to believe that this whole search for the sacred ashes was for naught.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes was infested with these lunatic Haven citizens, who were all apart of some dark cult that was trying to revive the shemlen mage, Andraste. It was all so strange to Lana, it seemed the humans worshipped their Maker's Bride in different forms, but when it came down to it, they all held the same unwavering faith.

She could respect the human's Gods, in fact, Lana had been intrigued by the thought of a 'Maker' who guided his children. All her kind has gotten from their Creators was silence.

There was a man at the back of the temple, standing tall, guarding. Lana felt her eyes widen once she realized that they might of stumbled upon something in this temple that wasn't useless after all.

"I bid you welcome, pilgrim." The man greeted her slowly.

"You must be the Guardian," Lana observed out loud.

"Yes. I am the Guardian of the Sacred Ashes. I have waited a long time for this."

"The dragon, it's not really Andraste, is it?" Lana asked. She felt bad for the foolish shem who worshiped a false deity.

"No. Our Andraste has returned to the Maker's side. She will not return."

"And who.. are you?" Lana wasn't sure if 'who' had been the right word.

"I am all that remains of the first disciples. I swore I would protect the Urn as long as I lived: and I have lived a very, very long time."

Leliana let out a gasp of astonishment from a few feet behind Lana. Her party had stayed a few feet back as the dalish elf approached the Guardian. The humans were frightened of the ancient spirit, even Wynne, who was a mage herself, stayed a few feet away from the pulsing ancient, unfamiliar magic.

Lana, on the other hand, remained completely unfrazzled as she approached the Guardian, who was standing in front of the door.

"Did you know Andraste?" Lana asked, finding herself curious and excited at learning first hand about the human mage who rebelled against the Tevinter Imperium with the elves.

"Did anyone really know her, save the Maker?" The Guardian answered vaguely. "She would sometimes spend weeks alone in mediation—often without food or water. I cannot express in words my love for Andraste. You must seek her out for yourself if you want to know more about our most Holy Prophet."

This Guardian was telling her to.. seek the path of the shem Andrastian's? She... She couldn't! It was just mere curiosity, she wouldn't...

"I've come to seek the Urn." Lana finally said, staring at the Guardian with unwavering conviction. She could hear the shift in her companions at her words, each subtly preparing themselves for battle against the ancient spirit if need it be.

"It is not up to I to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that. However, before you go, there is something I must ask. I see that the path that led you here was not easy." The Guardian crossed his arms behind his back and peered down at the small elven mage with a gaze that left Lana feeling completely vulnerable. He continued, "There is suffering in your past. Your suffering- and the suffering of others."

"You are devote to your Pantheon," the Guardian Spirit spoke ominously. "Proud to be the first to your Keeper, confident in your ability. But there is an anger inside of you that frightens you, a fear that rings in the back of your mind. The Templars took you from your home, from the protection of your Keeper, and you were left to wander the Fade on your own.'

"You've encountered the demons, you've seen the worst of your kind, of the mages. Tell me, pilgrim, is the young templar justified in his hatred towards the Maker's Children who have been Gifted?"

Lana clenched her hand into a fist. Of course the spirit would see her darkest fear, her fear of becoming an abomination. Her fear of the Templar's like Cullen who's hatred of the mages blinded them with rage, the Templar's who believed that mages should be killed before they turn into an abomination.

Of course there was an anger inside of her.

"No," Lana finally spoke through clenched teeth. "Cullen was a weak man. He was willing to let his weakness get innocent people killed."

"I see, you do not dwell on your past. And what of your companions?"

The Guardian spoke of Alistair's guilt; he could have saved Duncan, he should of died instead.

The Guardian criticized Leliana's faith; why does she say the Maker speaks to her, when she knows He left? He only spoke to Andraste. Did she believe herself to be Her equal?

The Guardian picked at Wynne's belief; was she just a tool spreading the word of the Chantry? Did she not doubt the Chantry herself, at times?

Finally, the spirit was satisfied, and opened the doors. The group quickly adventured further into the Temple.

"I... I don't know what to say.." Leliana admitted as they opened the doors to a room in the temple that had an altar, and a wall of flame behind it. She could see the statue of Andraste on the other side of the room, and the Urn that she assume held their most Holy's sacred ashes.

Leliana's heart was pounding, never feeling more close to the Maker than she had right at this moment. But her conversation with the Guardian had struck a nerve, and she felt uneasy with her faith in the Maker. She looked at the wall of fire and gulped, nervous. "I.. I think I'll stay right here.."

Lana approached the altar alone, her companions staying against the wall. The altar was a little more than a dusty stone slab, and she could make out the inscriptions carved into its face.

It was intimidating to say in the least, but the Warden stripped off her armor down to her loincloths, and stood in front of the wall of fire. She took a deep breath and stepped through, the flames engulfing her body, but not quite burning. She heard Leliana's gasp, and the sound of Alistair's armor as he tried to approach, but the flames were soon dancing around her skin, before disappearing.

The Guardian appeared. "You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim. You, and only you, may approach the Sacred Ashes."

She quickly pulled her clothes back on, and looked over her shoulder reassuringly to her comrades, before walking up the steps to the Urn. Lana reached in, taking a pinch of the ashes between her fingers.

She pulled the ashes out of the Urn and opened her leather pouch, but the sacred ashes began to glow magically, dancing upon her skin like the fire had, before disappearing completely.

She heard a woman's faint whisper, a gentle promise of protection, and suddenly all sorts knowledge on the Arcane ripped its way into her head, causing a throbbing headache.

Weak in the knees and clutching her head in pain, Lana fell to the ground. Alistair and Leliana rushed into the room, no longer afraid of the lingering magic since the ashes just disappeared in front of their eyes.

Alistair and Leliana both helped the Warden up while Wynne rubbed her chin from the side.

"Where did the ashes go?!" Leliana asked, her rich Orlesian accent dripping out in her panic.

"Lana, are you alright?" Alistair comforted her at the same time.

The Warden shook her head, their voices way too loud for her throbbing headache. "The sacred ashes.." She tried to explain, but couldn't.

"They have disappeared! And what of the Arl?" Leliana exclaimed, worried.

Lana used Alistair's shoulder to help steady herself, lifting a hand to silence Leliana's panic. "I know how to heal the Arl. I think... I think Andraste showed me." She murmured, knowing how absolutely ridiculous she sounded.

"Come, let us leave this place. We must heal the Arl and ask for his support," Wynne said gently, taking the Warden from Alistair.

The prince of Ferelden exchanged glances with the Sister Bard, both looking equally concerned, if even a bit horrified.

* * *

Alistair slammed open the double doors of the Arl's Estate, marching over to the elven warden who had been dropping a piece of fruit one of the servants had gifted her into her mouth.

He had a frown that clearly showed his disapproval as he advanced on the young woman.

"Now.. I don't know why you made the decision that you did. You knew I did not want to be the King of Ferelden."

Lana frowned and set her bowl down on the table, and stood to face Alistair with her arms crossed against her chest. She lifted an eyebrow as he continued.

"I.. I didn't want any of this. You knew what I wanted."

"You want to end the Blight." Lana quipped for him calmly. "You want to protect Ferelden. This is your home, Alistair. It's where you belong."

"No!" Alistair snapped, turning his head at her. He was enraged, and in all honest, Lana had expected him to be so. "You know that's not true! I-I mean, yeah, the protecting Ferelden and ending the Blight part couldn't be more spot on. But.." He shifted his gaze back to her, and Lana sucked in a breath as she saw the betrayal in his eyes. She felt as though she'd been sucker punched in the gut.

"Home, Lana, home is with you." He clenched his fist to his side. "I.. I thought I made that clear."

"Home," Lana choked, willing herself to not falter in her calm facade. Because he had. He had made his feelings clear one night at camp. She swallowed as she continued, knowing she would have to ignore his feelings. Her feelings. Even if she still wasn't sure what they were. "Is where we make it, Alistair."

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. Any of it." He clipped dryly. Lana frowned and crossed her arms against her chest. Alistair had been no help at the Landsmeet, telling her to chose Anora, and then telling her not to chose Anora. He'd ordered her to not allow Loghain's survival, which was the first time Alistair had really made a decision of his own. She couldn't help but bitterly think to herself he was getting accustomed to this whole Ruler of Ferelden thing quite swimmingly.

"I.. I'm sorry. I know you're just doing the best you can. But.. You mean a great deal to me." He closed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he looked absolutely broken. "I had hoped... we would lead to something more. Much more." Alistair had once thought of spending his whole life with the Warden after the blight, if he survived. He imagined a life with her, a life without a crown. And now he was being crowned the king, because she put him there.

He loved her, but he couldn't help but hate her at the same time. Alistair spoke sorrowfully, "..but I guess I have to face what this means."

"Why does you becoming king have to affect us, Alistair?" Lana asked him reasonably. She could understand why he was upset, but why was be pushing himself away from her? Right when she was beginning to think she could care for him?

"I will need a wife. One who can bear a child of nobility... and live to raise it." His eyes were clenched shut again, unable to look at the hurt expression that splashed across her face.

Lana reeled backwards as if his words had physically assaulted her. Just a few nights ago, he had confessed his love for her, and asked to share her tent. She denied him, telling him he himself was unsure if that was what he wanted, and Alistair had agreeingly backed off. She wondered if he would still easily be able to list all of the reasons they couldn't be together if she had let him into her bed that night.

"You were just begging me to join your tent. Would your mind be any different if I had?" She asked bitterly. It wasn't fair, using that against him. His reasons were perfectly valid, and she had been the one who put him on the throne despite his clear objections. "Or is this revenge for putting you on the throne?"

"Please.. Don't say that," Alistair begged her softly. "I didn't know it would turn out like this. I know this is selfish of me.. but.." He closed his eyes once again like the coward that he was, unable to face her. "I'm not sure I would be able to do this later. Maker knows... no. I'm sorry. I have to do it now. I think it's for the best, for both of our sakes."

Lana knew damn well that Alistair was not doing anything for her sake. She crossed her arms against her chest passively, willing herself to remain calm, to not let her hurt and embarrassment crack through.

What in the Creators had she been thinking?!

Were the Gods pointing and laughing at her now? Was this punishment for almost giving in to the human, for almost opening her heart to him? She'd been so close to loving Alistair. He had always been so kind to her, he watched out for her but not suspiciously, like the templars did the mages. He didn't ask about her culture, which she enjoyed most about him because speaking of it caused her pain. He had been such a good friend to her throughout their journey.

She wondered... if she hadn't so reluctant to open herself up to him.. would he be standing in front of her now, listing all of the reasons why they could not be together?

She would never know.

Her anger rested in the pit of her stomach, joining all of her other simmering rage she kept bottled up. She raised her head, looking the new King of Ferelden in the eye with her arms crossed against her chest.

"Who am I to object? You're a natural at this whole ruling thing, my king."

He felt her words like a stab through his heart. She may have spoken in a tone deprived of any emotion, but Alistair knew she'd been trying to hurt him. Lana knew better than anyone how fearful he had been of being the ruler of a whole country.

Alistair opened his eyes, he could feel his heart freezing over. It hurt too much, hurting her. Hurting himself.

He spoke gently, his words filled with regret. "Maker knows.. I'd trade all of this for what I really want."

* * *

"Wait!"

Alistair trotted over to Lana, his sword in his hand. She was coated in blood, her own blood, her comrades blood, the darkspawns blood. They were finally at war, they'd finally made it to the archdemon. Her companions all fought beside her, proud and unwavering, and Lana watched as Zevran and Leliana ignored their wounds which had been bleeding out, struggling to fight until they could fight no longer.

Her people were tiring out.

If she didn't end this soon, then everyone she's grown to care about during her travels will all die because they followed her into war blindly. Proudly.

Lana almost laughed at herself. When had she began to care for these people? Of course she would realize it now, minutes away from her death. Realize how close they'd become to her, almost as if they were like a second Clan.

She knew what Alistair wanted to say before he even opened his mouth.

Lana raised her hand to silence him, "Don't."

"Lana, let me. There's no need for you to die. I should be the one to do it, this is my duty." Alistair told her solemnly as he approached the elven mage who stood in front of the beaten archdemon.

Riordan had explained to them the night before, how it was that the Warden's slain the archdemon. After their meeting was over, Lana had returned to her room fully intending to sleep early, but Alistair had knocked on her door. He wanted to discuss the information Riordan had given them, Lana could tell Alistair wanted to tell her he wanted to take the final strike to the archdemon himself.

She had quickly shut him down, telling him that they were Grey Warden's, and now that they know how to kill the archdemon, then one of them will have to do it.

Lana had told Alistair, if he were to stand in her way during the final battle, she would cut him down, and she would cut the archdemon down right after.

"I would be dead if you hadn't saved my life a dozen times over by now. So let me save yours just this once." Alistair said, placing himself between Lana and the archdemon.

She knew she told him the night before that she would cut him down if he stood in her way, but that had been because Lana was hurt. Her heart felt cold, hard. He would become king, and she would be all alone. Alistair wouldn't be able to stay by her side, because she was an elf, and he was a human.

She meant to sound cold, but her voice betrayed her, coming out gentle, laced with understanding.

"I think… this is what Duncan would have wanted, Alistair."

"It's.. it's not what I want," His voice cracked for the first time, his resolve crumbling. "I know what my duty is, and it's to protect Ferelden. To protect you. Please, let me do this, Lana."

Her eyes clenched shut. 'Oh no,' She thought mournfully to herself. 'He's going to fight me on this. Oh, Gods, why can't you make just one thing easy for me, once?'

When she opened her eyes, her normally fiery red hues were deprived of any emotion. Alistair nearly had to take a step back at the sudden change in her, and Lana launched herself forward and punched the prince of Ferelden right in his nose.

Alistair stumbled back, hand clenching his now broken nose. Lana swung with her other fist, clocking him in the temple, before landing another final blow to his nose. He fell on the ground from the sudden assault, blood dripping from his nose as he tried to see clearly from his teary eyes.

' _I can't let you do this_ ,' Lana thought to herself as she looked down at Alistair, her eyes miraculously dry. ' _Because I'm selfish_.'

"Wait-" Alistair reached a bloodied hand out at her.

' _I can't be alone again._ ' She laughed inwardly at herself. ' _I'm a coward._ '

"You'll make a good king, Alistair." Lana told him, unable to remain cold and emotionless. She smiled gently at her fellow Warden.

Lana ran towards the archdemon, her spirit blade ready as she slid underneath the Dragon's long neck, driving her sword into it's scales and ripping it open.

 _'Thank you, **all** .'_

She snarled, screaming as she raised her blade over the archdemon's head, piercing the dragon's skull, slaying it. Light enhanced around the battlefield, the soldiers fighting in Denerim all halting in their attacks against the darkspawn as they looked up at the illuminating light.

And then there was an explosion, blasting everyone within distance back.

* * *

Alistair didn't know how long he had been unconscious, but when he came too, he realized he had not been the only one knocked out by the explosion. The darkspawn had all fled battle after their archdemon had been slain.

He quickly rose to his feet. His head rang. The ground was spinning. He was forgetting something. Something important.

The archdemon was dead.

...Lana.

It took quite a bit of stumbling, but Alistair made it to his feet and ran over to the slayed dragon. He tripped over rubble and felt to his knees, now crawling to the spot he had last seen her- she had been RIGHT THERE. She was gone.

The reality of it all hit him, she was gone and he was never going to see her again.

She was really gone. Just like that.

Alistair sat on his ankles, head looking helplessly at the sky.

He placed his face in his elbow, and he wept.

He didn't even have her corpse to mourn. To hold.

* * *

She was.. drifting. Through the darkness. Through the cold.

The cold darkness.

Was this.. The void?

She couldn't move. She wasn't breathing. But she was aware.

 _Aware.. of what?_

 _Where am I?_

She felt empty. She wondered if she had always felt this empty.

 _Did I do it?_

 _Did I.. protect them?_

She felt warmth at the thought. Who was 'them'? She couldn't remember anything except for this cold, for this darkness. She couldn't remember anything except drifting.

It was quiet. She could hear no song.

 _There's.. No Calling._

I.. I've done it.

They get to live.

 **I'm so happy.**

* * *

 **"Champion of Light, it is time for you to open your eyes."**

 _'W… what? ...where?'_

 **"It is not your time to rest, dear Child. There is much more work to be done."**

 _'No.. no, I've done all that I can. I can't.'_

 **'You have my protection, child. There is no other who can face the corrupted Magister who seeks destruction, abusing the Maker's gift.'**

 _'No.. don't make me go back. I can't-!'_

 **'The more time we waste, my child, the more destruction we allow this Magister to wrought on His Children. Tell me, are you ready, Champion of the Just?'**

 **'I grant you strength. I grant you courage. I grant you a second chance.'**

 **'Spread your newly found strength and courage through the land. You must stop Corypheus.'**

 _'Stop.. who?'_

 **'It is time.'**

 **"Go."**

* * *

The Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded perhaps around thirty-six hours ago.

Cullen has probably had about six hours of sleep in total, and that had been added together after three, two hour naps. He and his soldiers had been slaying the demons who dropped from the Breach relentlessly, clearing out one wave before another one would pulse right in, eventually.

Everyone had been in hysterics. Of course they were, the peace meeting between the Templar's and Mages held by the Most Holy had been destroyed. There was not a single survivor, and now they were without a divine.

Everything was a disaster.

Thankfully, Cullen was familiar with disaster.

"Soldiers! Hold your ground! There will be another wave soon!" He called out to his recruits. "Limon! Do not let the demons break past your guard! The archers will back you up, you not must back away! Push with your shield!" Cullen called, pointing at the Templar and raking off demands. The recruit nodded his head while wiping the sweat from his brow underneath his helm.

His men were on their guard, but taking the lull between waves to their advantage as many of the soldiers tried to catch their breath. Cullen knew how to channel his exhaustion into anger, his anger is what kept his hand from shaking on his blade, his anger is what helped him keep control in this crisis.

The Breach began to pulse again, and the Commander of the Inquisition forces raised his longsword above his head, calling to the soldiers. "Prepare yourselves, men! To arms!"

The Veil split open, and the sky was illuminated by the green magic of the rift, causing Cullen to shield his eyes from the light. He kept his eyes glued to the rift, determined to see what type of demons would come next, but there was no wave of monsters.

The breach pulsed again, waves of light illuminating the sky. The sky split open, there was the ghostly figure of a woman, illuminated by the green Fade. She seemed to be reaching, reaching, until something dropped.

Someone, dropped.

" _T-theres something falling from the Breach!"_

 _"More demons?"_

The soldiers frantically called out to one another. Their commander remained silent, critically observing the battle field as he approached whatever it was that had fallen out of the Fade.

It was a... woman? And she was... alive? Cullen quickly began to run over to the small body, shocked to find the person who'd fallen from the breach already trying to pick herself off the ground.

He approached, sword pointed to the person, but he had no intention to attack unless provoked. It appeared to be a woman, and she was on her hands and knees gasping heavily for breath.

"Where... Where am I?!" She choked, appearing to be speaking to the ground. Her head was hung low as she tried to catch her breath, red hair curtaining her face and hiding her identity from Cullen.

"Who are you? How did you fall out of the Breach?!" Cullen asked roughly. For all he knew, this woman could of been the person behind the explosion at the Conclave. This woman could be the person responsible for the Divine's death.

She lifted her head slowly, determined red hues meeting Cullen's honeyed ones. There was no recognition in her eyes when she looked at him, but Cullen could never forget that face. Never.

He sucked in a deep breath and without realizing it, he charged up the largest Holy Smite that he could possibly muster. The Smite had been so powerful, that Cullen could feel the burn in his veins as he unleashed all of his Templar training in one single blow. She let out a blood curling scream as the woman's arms gave out when he struck her and she crashed into the snow, limp and unconscious.

Cullen was breathing heavily, fist clenched to his heart as he tried to rail all of his thoughts back together. He wasn't even sure if the she was still breathing anymore, for he had smited her that strongly without thinking.

Twelve years, twelve years have passed, and it was those fiery red eyes that haunted his nightmares. That very same blood tattoos, and dark red hair.

Lana Lavellan.

She sacrificed herself to end the blight, there was no way she could be alive.

Cullen didn't realize he had been holding his breath, quickly sucking in cold air.

"Knight-Captain!" One of the templar's approached him, and the usage of Cullen's former title was enough to snap him out of his anxiety. "That was one damned Holy Smite! Who is she? Why did she fall out of the Breach?"

Cullen gripped the hilt of his sword, glancing up at the Breach that pulsed loudly in the sky. Now was not the time for him to let his old foolish anxieties get the best of him. He's moved past this. He has.

"I haven't the slight clue." The Commander lied. It wasn't necessarily a lie, he had no idea why the woman resembled Lavellan, but he could not afford to think of it at the moment. "And that is not my title. Take her to Seeker Cassandra, and tell her I will handle things up here while she figures out who that woman is."

"Aye, Commander!" The soldier saluted, palm to his heart, before grabbing the Warden by her arm and dragging her down the mountain.

Cullen watched for a moment, before turning his attention to the battle. The Breach was pulsing, ready to send its next wave. "On my mark, men! To arms!"

If he hadn't believed the world was ending before, Cullen certainly believed it now.

* * *

 **authors note;; The King of Ferelden knew the Inquisitor once, as well.**


End file.
